The dark between the stars
by Amrei
Summary: There's an infinite number of universes, one differing only in the tiniest details from the next. In an universe where he lost his reason for living before he found a new goal to live for, Dr. Nicholas Rush has to accept Special Agent French's offer, even though he can't bring himself to believe in it anymore. (X-Files AU)
1. Beginning

For Nerdfishgirl, who has been a simply amazing giftee! I hope you have just as much fun reading your gift, as I had writing it!

This was written for Rumbelle Christmas in July 2015.  
 **Prompts** : X-Files AU Rushbelle

* * *

– **Beginning–**

He was not sure how long he had sat there and simply stared at his calculations when the doorbell rang. His mouth tasted stale and when he shrank back from the noise the numbers came back into focus without him even having noticed when he had stopped seeing them in the first place. Rush rubbed his eyes and simply hoped that whoever was outside would go away again if he simply didn't answer. His papers were strewn all over the kitchen table and some had dark stains where they had lain in a dirty patch. He brushed off what he could, before he stacked them once again in orderly piles, sorted by the train of thought he'd followed when writing them, or at least as close as he could still manage. All the while the ringing continued. One loud ring, then fifteen seconds of silence, then another ring. And another. And another.

Rush closed his eyes, leaned back in his chair and simply let out a deep sigh. Blindly he groped for his coffee mug, took a sip, and spit it right out, at once alert again. It wasn't simply cold, it clearly had stood there for some time until it was only barely edible anymore. The ringing continued and was echoed by the beginning staccato of a headache behind his eyes.

The taste in his mouth had his throat clenching, but his formerly halfway orderly papers were now sprinkled with coffee splatters, so after a little bit of fumbling where he tried to find some paper towels and the subsequent realisation that someone would have had to have bought them in the first place for any to be there (and that with only him left here, who didn't ever think of such things, the chances of finding any were abysmal) he grabbed a packet of tissues and did his best to at least dry the papers.

The doorbell still hadn't quieted and its rhythm had slowly but surely dug its way into his head.

Wait – wait – wait – wait- wait - wait – wait – wait – wait- wait - wait – wait – wait – wait- wait – ring! – wait – wait – wait …

He wiped the table with a tissue, as he should probably have done before he had placed his papers there, and laid out a thin cover of paper tissues. Then one page next to the other, and another covering of paper tissues. For a moment it looked as if the table was covered by a crisp white tablecloth, waiting to be decked out with their good Sunday china and a new cake she just had to try, but then the coffee seeped through in new dark stains and he turned towards the sink. A glass of tap water didn't exactly counter the horrible taste on his tongue, but it at least made it bearable and Rush filled another one for good measure.

He didn't gulp down this one and as he sipped it he caught himself tapping the seconds until the next ring against the glass. 13 – 14 – 15 – there it was again and he couldn't help but turn to the kitchen watch. 16:20. He frowned. When had it started? Three minutes ago? Five? Ten? He had no idea, but slowly he pushed himself away from the counter he had leaned on, and made his way to the hallway, glass still in hand. It didn't seem as if his visitor would get the drift that he wasn't wanted, after all.

He didn't bother to turn the light on, so he had to squint a little to make out the silhouette of the person outside through the milky glassing of the door, but he saw enough to assure himself that it wasn't Jackson again. The person was much shorter and for a moment, as he turned the key to open the door, he was faced with the very real possibility that he would have to confront an overeager, and doubtlessly also hyperactive girl-scout.

That fear at least proved unfound the moment he had opened the door the littlest bit. On his porch stood a bright-eyed, through truly tiny woman in a sober black costume and black heels. She smiled at him when he met her gaze, as if he hadn't made her wait far longer than could in any way be considered polite. Her unnaturally cheerful countenance in combination with her professional attire made him swallow hard. No it wasn't Jackson, but as the situation looked it might as well be.

"I don't suppose I'm lucky and you're from Jehovah's Witnesses and want me to find God?"

To her credit it had to be said that her smile didn't waver. Instead her eyes crinkled as she shook her head. A brown curl slipped from her knot, but the little chink in her professional façade was too little too late to placate him.

"I fear not" she answered and Rush felt his headache flare up again. Of course not. Instead he would have to listen to another round of Jacksons' delusions, only this time they came in a prettier package- During his musings his eyes had strayed from the woman before him but in an instant his gaze snapped back to her. Rush suddenly felt very cold. He gazed from her undisputable beautiful face to her delicate figure and hot anger pooled in his chest. Had Jackson truly thought of this? Now?! His fury must have shown, because her smile faded quickly. Good, he didn't want to hear another word of this farce.

Without another word he shut the door – or at least tried to. The heavy wood came to an abrupt halt maybe a handbreadth away from the door frame. Puzzled he pushed harder and was rewarded by a stifled gasp. With a start he let go of the door and stepped back. Caught between the door and the frame was a dainty heeled foot.

"Oh shit."

He ripped the door open again, for all the good it could do now. "Eh, are you ok?" He cringed as soon as the words left his mouth. Her foot was already turning a garish purple, not to mention that he had just done his best to break her fucking foot. "I mean – "

"No, it's ok." Somehow she actually managed to still sound friendly. Some professional countenance, that. "Nothing broken!" As if to prove her point she wiggled her toes and promptly paled. "Maybe a little swollen", she admitted. "But nothing serious."

Rush actually was left speechless. Not knowing what else to do in the face of such comfort from the woman he had just manhandled however unwillingly, he took another sip of the water he was still holding.

"I'm Special Agent French and I know what Dr. Jackson told you about." She finally started again, undiscouraged despite everything. "And I know what you thought about his offer and even though I could have done without this", she gestured towards her mangled foot. "I think I can at least understand why you wanted to shut the door right in my face again, but please at least hear me out – I'll admit in a way I'm here for the same reason as him, but only in a way. Please…" She looked at him with big hopeful eyes and then she shifted her weight away from her injured foot. Maybe she truly only wanted to lessen the pain while she waited for his verdict, but more likely she was trying to remind him of the injury he had just caused her. Either way, it was working.

Rush sighed. "Come on in then, Agent French." He left the door open and walked back into the kitchen, but slowly enough to let her follow comfortably. He didn't look back in order to see if she was following him. If she was desperate enough not to say a word about him crushing her foot, she surely wouldn't let said foot stop her now. He could her the click-clack of her heels as she hobbled after him anyway and he felt his face grow hot with shame. He made a point of not looking at her, as he crossed the kitchen and opened the fridge. There was not much in there except for a plate with leftover pizza and a yoghurt he wouldn't open anymore if he was paid for it, but he dimly remembered an ancient package of peas in the freezing compartment.

Grabbing the bag, he gestured vaguely in her direction. "Take a seat." He gave her a few moments to manage her injured foot while sitting down, before he finally turned around, when he couldn't hear the shuffling anymore. Agent French had taken a seat at the table, and Rush forced himself to meet her gaze. "I fear I don't have any ice, but this should help, too." He raised the hand with the peas and felt completely foolish, even as she nodded earnestly.

"It's perfect, really. Thank you."

He'd felt much better if she had let at least a bit of derision show, but she was still her friendly, unperturbed self, so there was nothing for him to do but to pull another chair out for her foot and look at her expectantly. He couldn't say the words, but she didn't need any prompting to slip out of her shoe and slowly place her foot on it. Rush kneeled before her and carefully laid the package on the injury, taking his time in lowering it on her foot and smoothing the plastic out so that as much of the bruised skin was covered as possible.

Still, there was only so much stalling he could get away with, even in front of himself, so he finally got up again and sat down opposite of her. He didn't look at her again, but smoothed out the tissue on the page in front of him. A stain had soaked through the whole left side of the paper. "So what was it you wanted to talk to me about and how is what you have to tell me different from what Dr. Jackson had to say?"

There was a slight rustling of clothes, and Rush didn't need to look up from the table to know that she had sat up straighter. Keeping her height, or rather lack thereof, in mind it probably was a mannerism that was to be expected, when she made a point of seeming professional. He could relate to that.

"First of all, unlike Dr. Jackson, I'm not working for the military. My name is Belle French and I'm with the FBI. I work on a certain kind of abandoned cases – the X-files."

He already knew that he didn't want to hear the answer, but he simply had to ask, if only so that it wouldn't have to be dragged out. Reluctantly he looked up from the mess on the table and met her gaze. Agent French met his eyes squarely. He had been right. She had truly drawn herself up to her full height, even though the position left her outstretched leg in an awkward angle. "What sort of abandoned cases?"

She parried his resigned tone with a wry smile. "The unexplainable kind." She held her hand up, stopping him from the derisive answer he hadn't even thought of by then. "Or rather the kind that stays unexplainable, as long as the military doesn't relinquish access to certain files." Agent French folded her hands, disentangled them again and finally laid them flat on the table. She breathed in deeply. "I understand that you don't believe in extra-terrestrial life, your conversation with Dr. Jackson made that all too clear, but whether you believe in it or not, there definitely is something the military is hushing up, and I simply need this information!" She had scarcely stopped to breathe during her heated speech, and now she had to gasp for breath, while she looked at him imploringly. Despite himself Rush found himself asking: "And what part do I play in in your quest for knowledge?"

She smiled at him and her rigid pose softened a little. "After you, ehm, refused Dr. Jackson's offer" -Rush had to scoff at that rather tame description of him sending Jackson packing rather despairingly, a flash of mirth that broke through his numbness . "he approached me. He knew that I had tried to gain access to a certain kind of classified information for some time now and we made a deal. If I managed to convince you, he'd see to it that I'd be made the FBI-contact for the Icarus project and get full clearing."

As fast as it had come the spark of mirth was gone again. Rush let his gaze wander around the kitchen, from the clock in the corner to the cobweb under the ceiling, before he finally rested his gaze on her face again. "And how exactly are you going to go about that? And why should I even let you try?"

"I'd ask you to work for the FBI as a consultant and take you along on my more extraordinary cases." She smiled at him again, that surprisingly earnest smile he couldn't quite understand. "And you'll agree because Dr. Jackson promised to leave you alone if I haven't managed to change your mind in six months."

"You sound quite certain that I'll agree to your scheme. I won't give up my job at the university, if I can just as easily shut the door in Jackson's face when he turns up again." He looked down at the table again. In some spots the coffee had soaked through so thoroughly that it had turned the paper tissues almost transparent. He traced the numbers on a note he had written in what felt like half a lifetime ago, before it had started gathering dust on his desk like all the rest.

"You wouldn't have to. I'll do the research during the week and we can go investigate on the weekends when you are free. Even if we have to go out of state we should easily manage it."

He looked from the old notes to her, then he shrugged. "As long as you can promise me that Jackson will leave me be after I'm done with this, I'll agree."

Her face lit up with a radiant smile, all thoughts of cool professionalism clearly forgotten. "Thank you! You have no idea how much this means to me!"

Rush smiled wryly. "Don't thank me yet. I only said that I'd come along, not that I'd take your stories seriously. Don't celebrate yet."

Still Agent French smiled and for a split moment he almost forgot all about the suffocating pressure of empty pages and half-forgotten notes.


	2. One

– **1–**

The town that passed by the car window looked just like any other piece of small-town-America he had ever seen before. Small tidy houses with small tidy lawns on small tidy streets. It was all perfectly normal, just as normal as the occupants of their car would have seemed to an onlooker. Agent French had turned on the radio, when he had answered her tries at conversation with monosyllables at best, and grunts at worst, but instead of the strained silence he had expected, she had started to hum tunelessly along with the jazz station on the radio. Her rendition didn't resemble the actual song at all, but she was so cheerful that it hardly seemed to matter, at least not to her. He made sure to keep his gaze turned to the window, then he closed his eyes and slowly counted down from ten. His skin still crawled, but at least he could breathe freely again. At least it was no classic, at least she had less musicality than his creaking study door. He clenched his hands in his laps, until his knuckles turned white, as he starred sightlessly out the window.

Rush only noticed that they had arrived, when a hand touched his shoulder. He jerked around sharply and was confronted by the agent looking at him openly. The radio was still playing softly in the background. "We're there. Are you okay, doctor?"

He nodded abruptly. "Yes, yes. Only lost in thoughts." She didn't look too convinced, but she didn't question him further, as she got out of the car. He followed her quietly and took a moment to look around. The building actually looked very nondescript. A white block of concrete. Not exactly an architectural magnum opus, but still a far cry of what he'd have imagined an asylum to look like.

"I still can't believe I agreed to do this…" He had only grumbled the words under his breath, but Agent French had still heard them. Of course, she had. She smiled at him rather impishly. "Just keep thinking of your ultimate goal: Your peace and quiet."

With a few quick gestures she smoothed down first her curls, then her suit, before she finally tucked her briefcase under one arm. She straightened a little further, and when she turned to him again, the cheerfulness from before was gone; once again she was all professionalism.

"I have called ahead, so they'll be expecting us, although I may have glossed over the direction we're investigating in. For all they know, we're only interested in Miss Stewart's case because we're working on another case of abductions one state over and want to rule out any connections." She smiled wryly, a pale shadow to her usual exuberance. "Or rather I'm the one investigating, and you are my psychiatric consultant."

He was startled into a scoff at that. "But you are aware that I'm not that kind of doctor, aren't you?"

She grinned at him and for a moment her usual cheerfulness flickered through her professional façade. "I am, but they aren't and that's really all that matters right now, isn't it? We have to talk to the girl and this'll give us credibility – and with any luck the possibility of talking to her alone."

She turned around and he fell in step beside her as they neared the building. The gravel crunched under his shoes and he let the sound lull him into calmness again, before he allowed himself to think about the subject of their trip again. "Still… UFOs? I'd have thought we'd at least start with something a little less crazy. Maybe corn circles or some sighting of bloody little green men…"

Agent Frensh only shock her head at him mildly. "Shush, doctor. If it's truly so ridiculous we'll be done with this case all the quicker, so no reason to sulk. And now, please try to look a little more professional, I see someone coming."

The man coming towards them fit his stereotype far more than the building had. He was haggard, with ashen hair, a white coat and glasses. He gave them a tight nod.

"Welcome at Stanton's. I'm Dr. Wilson and you must be the people from the FBI."

Agent French nodded and gave him a thin smile. "Yes, good morning, doctor. I am Special Agent French and this is one of our psychiatric consultants Dr. Rush. I believe we already had the pleasure on the phone. We would like to speak to Alice Stewart." She showed him her badge, before looking at him expectantly. "Shall we?"

Dr. Wilson looked a little doubtfully at him, but Rush only starred back at him coldly. Wilson was the first to look away. "Yes, of course, follow me."

He led them briskly through the long corridors of the asylum and Rush was glad that he didn't turn around to them. For all its special purpose, to him the asylum looked exactly like any other hospital. The walls were the same sterile white and the same smell of disinfectant hung heavy in the air. He felt his stomach turn violently and he truly didn't want to know what his face looked like. He jerked around sharply as a hand touched his arm. Agent French looked at him questioningly, but he only shook his head. Not now, not ever, but especially not with some psychiatrist they wanted to convince of his credibility two steps before them.

The agent looked at him for a long moment, then she squeezed his arm with a small flash of her honest smile and let go again. He forced himself to take a deep calming breath and straightened up to his full height, mirroring her pose. The better they did, the faster they would be out of here again.

The room they finally entered was very light, with a wide window along almost its whole length. Although three beds were distributed along the room, only one was occupied, and next to it sat a very pale brunette girl on a chair and looked outside.

"Alice?" Dr. Wilson's voice was deliberately calm, as he spoke to her. "There are some people here, who want to talk to you. I already told you about them."

She turned around to them very slowly. Her face looked very drawn, but her eyes were alert.

Agent French took a step towards her and crouched down. Instead of eye-level, she now had to look up to Miss Stewart. Still she went on unperturbed and gave her a smile.

"Hello, Miss Stewart. I am Special Agent French and that is my colleague Dr. Rush. We would like to ask you a few questions about what happened to you. Is that okay with you?"

The girl glanced at her doctor, then she nodded. "Yes…" Her voice was very quiet. "But… I don't know if I can help you…"

"Alice still doesn't remember much about what happened", Dr. Wilson threw in from behind and Rush levelled him with a cold stare. Wilson cleared his throat awkwardly, then he fell silent again. Rush felt his mouth twitch. Slowly he started to like this new persona.

Meanwhile Agent French had continued as if nothing had happened.

"That's fine. Just tell us what it is you do remember, and you'll already have helped us a great deal." When Miss Stewart hesitated, Agent French smiled at her encouragingly again. "How about we start with some easy questions to begin with?" Miss Stewart nodded hesitatingly.

"Great. So, what is your name?"

"Alice. Alice Stewart."

"And how old are you?"

"Sixteen."

Agent French smiled even wider. She was still kneeling and the hand she used to support her position, mindful of her tall heels, was turning white from the force with which she was holding onto the bedframe. Her face stayed serene. "You are doing great. Now can you tell me what it is, you do remember of the evening of the third April?"

The girl hesitated. She looked at Dr. Wilson again, and when he nodded, she looked back to Agent French. Other than that she sat completely motionless, her hands folded rigidly in her lap. "I… was behind the house. My parents were out. On the news they'd said there would be a lot of shooting stars and I wanted to see them." She paused. "I know I saw something really bright, but then…" She looked down at her lap. The rest of her body still wasn't moving, as if only her head was truly part of a living being and not a perfect sculpture. "Everything becomes blurred. I know I was so scared and… there was someone else and… the next thing I know is when I woke up again in the forest behind our house."

Her trance seemed to be broken. From one moment to the next she was shaking, her whole body moving with the force of the tremors and Dr. Wilson took a quick step towards her. "I think that is quite enough, for now." Agent French nodded and got up again, no small feat in the heels she was wearing. "Yes, of course." She smiled at Miss Stewart once again, who starred sightlessly ahead. "Thank you, you have truly helped us a lot."

They left the room, leaving Wilson behind, who had started talking to her quietly. Rush looked at Agent French questioningly, but she only shook her head and pointed to the door behind them. They waited quietly, until Dr. Wilson finally emerged, his brow furrowed.

"She didn't take the memories well. I had hoped… but no." He shook his head, as he slowly started to walk beside them. "Did the interview at least help you with your case?"

Agent French shook her head. The click-clack of her heels echoed through the empty corridor. "I do not think so, but of course we cannot be sure until we have heard all the facts." She looked at the doctor expectantly. "So now we know that Miss Stewart vanished on the evening of the third April and was found not a hundred yards away from her house three days later, without any memoires of what happened. What is your professional opinion on it?"

Wilson took a deep breath and let his eyes wander through the sterile corridor, before he finally spoke. "I think something horrible happened to her. An abduction probably, and she copes with the trauma by pushing it away. I hope she will finally be able to work through them with continued psychiatric help, but that will be out of our hands."

"It will?" Agent French asked surprised. In an instant her gaze snapped back to him. The doctor nodded. "Yes, her parents have expressed the wish to take her and live with some family in Florida, away from the bad memories and of course we are only trying to help her here. She is free to go, when her family decides to move. She is not chronically ill, only in dire need of help in this situation." He sighed again, as he led them through the entrance hall. Rush tried to be as quiet as possible, as he gasped for the fresh air. He barely listened to the doctor anymore when he continued, his head swam too much from the sheer rush of being outside again. "I fear you won't be able to question them, as they're handling the details there right now."

Agent French nodded. "We probably will not need to talk to them anyway, if the tour of the site does not bring up new questions." She gave him one of her clear, professional smiles. "Thank you for your time, we will be on our way now."

Back in the car Rush had collected himself enough, to finally speak again. "And how exactly does that play into your UFO-theory? Dr. Wilson seemed quite convinced that there was nothing unexplainable about her case."

Agent French nodded unhappily and chewed on her bottom lip. "That he did. I only wish we hadn't unsettled her so. Maybe we could've managed to talk to her alone after all. I could have asked a few more… pointed questions than."

Rush looked at her askance. The picture of the shaking girl seemed to have burned itself into his eyelids. "You seriously still hold on to your little pet theory?"

She nodded again as she started the car. "Yes I do, though I see your point with regards to this case. The thing is, it's by far not the only one of its kind." She made a wide gesture with her right hand, but didn't lift her gaze from the non-existent traffic beforehand. They left the centre of the town and while there had been few cars to begin with, now there were next to none.

"I have found three other cases. All on the same property, all returned within a few days and all unable to remember anything about their leave clearly. Mary Douglas, a rather extended relation of Alice in 1955, Clara Stewart, a cousin-second grade in 1962 and her aunt Linda in 1995 – and I'm not entirely sure that I caught every one. Such a short disappearances and no clear explanation. It's easy to imagine that some abductions weren't even called in, because either it was taken as an excuse for staying away out of the blue or even because no one noticed their absence while they were gone."

Rush simply looked out of the window for a few long moments, staring into the dark green foliage of the forest around them, before he answered. "That is really strange, I have to agree to that. Still, I don't see why it couldn't be simply really bad luck or maybe even some kind of mental illness." The memory of the girl still unfolded in front of his inner eye in a seemingly endless loop. He breathed through his nose and looked at Agent French again. "As I already mentioned I'm no psychiatrist and have no real idea about those sort of things, but couldn't they suffer some sort of mental illness? An inherited disease that causes episodes in which they aren't aware of themselves? I don't know, something like schizophrenia?"

This time Agent French actually felt it necessary to tear away her gaze from the traffic in order to level him with a doubtful look. "Hypothetically, yes. But as you already said you are no expert and have no more proofs for your theory than I have for mine."

'Mine is a little more likely though' – the words were heavy on his tongue, but suddenly he couldn't muster the energy to speak them. He tried not to blink, but he could still see the girl before him. In his mind her hair turned lighter and lighter as she trembled. Alice, her name was Alice and she had dark hair…

He swallowed hard and shook his head violently, trying to chase way the thought. Agent French was so set in her believes, that she wouldn't take the point anyway and even though he truly wanted to make her see clearly, the argument he could see enfolding before his inner eye made him too tired to start. Rush breathed in deeply and leaned back into his seat. Before them there was still nothing more to see than trees and an empty road, but he still kept starring ahead. Agent French for her part didn't seem to notice his shift in mood. When he didn't respond they simply drove a little further in complete silence, but when she spoke again it was with her usual cheer.

"That must be it, the next turn and then it'll only be-" The car choose that moment to die with an anticlimactically quiet rumbling. For a moment both of them were too surprised to act. Unsurprisingly it was Agent French, who pulled herself together first. "It was fine just this morning…" she mumbled under her breath as she got out of the car. She opened the hood, obscuring Rush's view of the scene, but her voice still carried far enough for him to hear. "Everything looks perfectly fine…" Slowly he followed her outside. While cars were not exactly his forte, he knew enough about mechanics to agree with her. The innards of the car looked to be in perfect working order, except for the fact, that they obviously weren't.

Agent French was still staring down on the motor, forehead ceased, and seemingly no closer to solving this puzzle than she had been minutes before. "There is nothing. It's as if it simply stopped working, when we came to the property-" With a start she looked up and slammed the hood shut. Rush shrank back in surprise. "Of course! When we came to the property…" She whirled around to him. "Don't you see?" She interrupted herself when she saw the confusion on his face. "Of course you don't, but that's not important right now. Right now we just have to hurry up to get there." She started ahead in a fast stride that didn't seem altogether possible with her shoes, but she made it work. Hesitatingly Rush followed. He looked once again at the car, then at the rapidly moving form of the suddenly so spirited agent. "What about the car?"

She didn't even turn around to answer. "Well, we won't be able to use it anytime soon, so we'll just leave it here. We'll have to call a cab to get back to town, anyway."

It had started to turn dark by now and even though he really didn't believe in her abduction theory, Rush made sure to catch up to Agent French, when they left the street in favour of a more direct path through the woods. The world was a much too mundane place for anything like ghosts and aliens and something more just out of one's reach, but it was all too well equipped with cruelty of the human kind and he'd seen the gun the agent wore under her jacket, when she had gotten out of the car. The thought that something was obviously very wrong here struck him and suddenly he felt woefully unprepared to face it.

"There!" Her voice was barely above a whisper and Rush instinctively looked up at hearing her awed tone. The path lead up a small hill, and behind it a light shone brightly through the dense wood. Without any conscious decision to do so, Rush took a step back, even as she almost started to run. "Come on!"

He followed her slowly and his heart felt as if it was trying to beat through his throat. Only a few more metres until they reached the highest point. Rush forced himself to take one step after the other. _This is not real, it can't be._

A shadow rose before the light and Rush lost command over his feet and froze. The shadow grew taller as it came nearer, sharply contrasted against the light and stopped only a few metres away from Agent French, who was shielding her eyes in a try to see more than a blurred shape.

"You are on military property. No entry for civilians."

From one moment to the next the unbearable tension left Rush in one deep sigh. When he squinted just right he could make out the uniform of the man before them. While he had relaxed, the agent's stance had become rigid. "Military property? This is the property of the Stewart family, and furthermore it's a site the FBI has to investigate for an important case!"

The soldier didn't sound as if any of this interested him in the least. "The property was recently purchased from the former owners. Any investigations on this area will have to be approved from a military official."

"Oh, I will get it approved, you can bet on it!" Rush had never seen her so angry, or angry at all, if he thought about it, and when she whirled around to stomp away, he hesitated a moment before he followed her. She was cursing under her breath all the way to the street and Rush listened duly impressed with half an ear, while he tried to make sense of what happened.

"That was actually strange", he admitted. When she turned her gaze to him hopefully he hurried to shake his head. "I still believe in a logical explanation, but it is a strange coincidence." She still looked at him as if she waited for him to say something to back her up, so he continued talking. "Maybe it's really just a coincidence. Maybe some soldiers were involved in the abduction and they are trying to hush it up."

Agent French shook her head unconvinced. Suddenly she looked very small in the dark. "But why would they still be here now, almost a month later? A few days would have been enough to cover up any tracks. Anyway, their involvement has to be a new occurrence, Doctor Wilson didn't know about it." She frowned, as she continued the thought. "But even if not, why are they here? How did they find out? Did they follow my research…" Rush had the distinct feeling that the last part wasn't intended for his ears and he clenched his hands while thinking rapidly about a way to get her to calm down, when she managed to do exactly that without his doing.

With one last sigh, Agent French seemed to free herself of her trance. Her posture became relaxed again and her face softened. "At least this way, nothing will happen again… I suppose I should call us a cab now."

ooo

Rush took a drag of his cigarette and inhaled deeply. Calmness settled into his bones. The strangeness of the day seemed far away now. Above them the sky had clouded over a little, but he was still able to make out a satellite blinking between the stars. He shuddered despite himself and chocked on the smoke, doubling up on the curb he was sitting on. A surprisingly firm hand hit him on his back and he closed his eyes for a moment. There went the last shred of his dignity.

They were quiet for a few seconds, until Agent French finally broke the silence. "So, what do you say about your first encounter of the third kind?" The question was posed in such a guileless tone that Rush had to snort despite himself. As if she were asking him about the weather. He turned his head around to her and she met his gaze with a wide smile. To tell the truth he didn't have much experience with government officials, but this surely wasn't their normal behaviour. Strange girl.

"You tell me, since I had no idea that I had one until just now."

She rolled her eyes at him. "Oh come on! I know, you already reasoned it all away for your peace of mind, but you can't tell me that you didn't consider the alternative, too!"

Rush shook his head and made a short gesture with his right hand. The cigarette drew a flashing arc in the dark. "I didn't. Really not. It's all rubbish made up by loons without a first idea about the technicalities their little pet theories would require in order to have a chance in hell of actually working." He raised a brow, looking her over with a brittle smirk. "I actually have a hard time believing that you think it's true, you don't seem like a nutter to me." It was an old pattern, him saying what was on his mind and his opposition being less than appreciative of the fact, and he almost instantly regretted his harsh words in a conversation that didn't feel like a burden for once.

Agent French flushed, not with rage, but indignation, her eyes flashing as she answered him: "Of course I believe! Why is it so hard to imagine that there's more than us in such a great, wonderful universe?"

He breathed out a spiral of smoke and looked up to the stars. Some time ago, even a few months – but he couldn't have the past again and some things just couldn't be undone.

"Well, we can start with the sheer physical impossibility of interstellar flight or the more popular theories." He looked at her sardonically. "The first is rather dull and can be broken down to the fact that you'd need far more fuel than you could transport without needing even more fuel to transport that – and as for the second. Have you ever heard of the Fermi-Paradox?"

Agent French gave him a long look, before rolling her eyes.

"Of course I have! Do you think you are the first to try and convince me to give up on what I believe?" She giggled softly. "You have no idea how often I already had to listen to well-meaning colleagues explaining the alleged impossibility of my field of work to me and that's apparently the first thing that comes up if you google 'How to argue with UFO fanatics?'" Rush started to interject, but she waved him off good-naturedly. "I know that wasn't where you were going with it, but that's what most others think." She smiled at him and Rush startled for a moment at the gesture. "I actually like that about you. You are someone I can actually argue with – even though you still think I'm crazy."

This time he caught her smile soon enough, so that he didn't rush do placate her. Instead he simply shook his head. "I don't think that you're crazy. I simply think you want to believe in this so badly that you can't bring yourself to realise that you're completely wrong."

She smiled at that, as if he hadn't just all but called her conviction outright bullshit. "Well, if you play the Fermi paradox, I raise you all the contradictions people have discussed for decades. As soon as you assume that there are signs of alien life all around us, but we're simply not advanced enough to notice them, the whole thing inflates on itself. And that's without even mentioning the zoo-hypothesis."

He twisted his mouth. "Though why any civilization so far developed would take a spit of interest in us, is quite another question…" He had meant to mumble that last comment under his breath, but in the quiet night his words rang out all too clear.

This time she laughed outright and Rush took a moment to examine her again. While she had appeared to be a generally sanguine woman during the day, after hours so to speak, she was much more carefree. Without her professional countenance she looked years younger and that probably already explained the question forming in his mind at least for the most part.

"Well, I'm sure we're very educational, even if we're not cut out for the average petting zoo." She looked at him challengingly. "So, back to the topic. You said that with our current state of development interstellar travel is impossible and I won't question your expertise on that topic, but how can you be so sure that there's no other way we simply haven't thought of yet?"

Rush shook his head. "Because even if there was there are still some ground rules even the most advanced technology can't circumvent."

"For example?"

Rush raised his eyebrow at her prompt question. "For example the fact that there is nothing faster than light and without that, it'd be impossible to plausibly travel across the universe."

She actually thought about that for a moment, but it wasn't long, before she looked at him with that shrewd look again, he already recognized as promising a prompt comeback. "Ok, so that would be an actual argument, but only if no one can think of a way to circumvent it – no, don't look at me like that, not as long as time travel is a theoretical possibility!"

Despite her words Rush still looked at her disbelievingly. "You mean very, very strictly theoretically. The energy needed is simply impossible."

"So what?" Agent French shrugged. "It still shows that there could very well be a way to get around the obstacles of the whole thing. I know, an argument based on so many vague maybes isn't a strong one, but it's at least some form of counter argument. Maybe the only thing between us and the other end of the universe is a way to travel though black holes."

His cigarette had burnt low at that point and after one last drag Rush stubbed it out on the ground. "And far more likely a black hole would tear apart anything coming too close. But even if there was a chance in hell that interstellar travel could work – where are your aliens?" He made an abrupt gesture with his empty hand, and felt instantly foolish. Still, halting only to get another cigarette, so that he'd have something to do with his hands would seem even worse. He breathed in deeply before continuing. "And please don't start again with the zoo-hypothesis, not when your whole work revolves around aliens already being among us. How could the government have hushed that up? It's not as if the world consists only of the US. Even if genre movies make it seem differently, there are other countries on this earth and someone would have let something slip by now."

Agent French smiled as if he had given her the world. "But that's exactly the point! Because there are rumours, aren't they? People are just really good at discrediting them, and even if you know something it's nigh on impossible to get to know details!" She looked at him with wide eyes and despite the ridiculousness of the topic Rush was intrigued, if not by her points, then by her sheer conviction.

When he didn't say anything further, her smile slowly faded until it wasn't radiant anymore, but slightly embarrassed.

"I'd kill for a chance like yours." Her voice was soft when she spoke again and her eyes were firmly fixed on her hands. "The chance to finally get to know all the facts, it'd be unbelievable." She startled slightly and looked at him. "Well, of course not literally, but you know – I'd have done next to anything."

At a loss for words, Rush shifted his weight uncomfortably. The silence stretched between them and he opened his mouth and closed it again, before he finally found his voice.

"But aren't you at least in a sense? Even without all the intel you can look into the cases you find important in that regard – these X-files." She simply shrugged. "Sure, but as long as I'm limited to the FBI-resources, I'll never come to any results and the military just shuts down whenever it comes to any real facts. My only real hope is to convince you."

Finally she looked away from her hands and back to him. "Even if you don't think anything of the project, to make such a deal with me, they really have to want you badly."

Despite himself he felt flattered at that, no matter that the people in question were clearly out of their minds, but he bit back the comment just as he had all of the more biting ones before that. For once he found himself intrigued in a conversation and the fact that the topic was such nonsense only made it all the more precious. It was doomed, but he wanted to hold on to this flicker of normality for a little longer, before he scared off his counterpart. Instead he came back to a question that had puzzled him from the beginning.

"But if that's the case, why did they send someone who has no clue to convince me?"

At that a small grin stole its way back on her face and he was oddly glad, that her good cheer – and with it his avid conversational opponent- was back. "Well, in order to hear any real facts you need clearance and to believe Dr. Jackson there apparently was an incident with one of the scientists recently, and restrictions went up even higher. But since I have no access to anything, there was no problem with letting you come along and try to puzzle things out yourself."

Rush snorted. In the distance a pair of headlights appeared. The car was still too far off to be recognizable, but out here on the corner of nowhere, it stood to reason to assume that it could only be their taxi. "I bet someone thought he was really smart, when he thought of that one."

Agent Belle simply shrugged and got up from the road curb they had sat on. "Probably, I was too glad for the chance to ask more, to be honest. But see it like this: After you're through with this you'll either never have to see him again or you'll be on Icarus and that's even better."

His legs had fallen asleep while they had been talking and when he got up now a mute sort of pain shot through him. "And you'll get your information."

She turned around to him again and her smile was too bright again. He had to stop himself from flinching back.

"Yes, and I'll get my information."


	3. Two

– **2–**

The board with the case photographs looked like something right out of some crime-show. Ten photos for every one of the seven victims, showing the corpses from every imaginable angle. His stomach turned, but he still couldn't look away. Instead he slowly sat down in one of the chairs in their impromptu headquarter in her motel-room. He wasn't squeamish by any means, but this for sure wasn't what he had expected, when he had signed up for their deal. Hunting shadows, why not? Inspecting corn circles, all right, but real dead people?

Agent French continued to explain the details of the case, but her voice seemed very far away, as he starred right ahead. Beneath his stare the victims seemed to morph into a faceless jumble of waxen skin and unseeing eyes. He swallowed hard and only blinked out of his morbid trance, when a glass of water was pushed into his hand. Only then he noticed that Agent French had stopped speaking altogether. Now she stood before him and looked rather concerned. "Are you all right, Doctor Rush?"

He nodded numbly. "Yes, of course. I was just…"

She smiled at him kindly. "I'm sorry, sometimes I completely forget that this sort of thing is not exactly normal for everyone else. Maybe we should go outside for a minute?"

Heat rose to his face. "No, I'm good. There is really no need." Rush still made a point of not looking directly at the photos again. Trying to regain his bearing he surmised as much about the case, as he had still heard. "So all these people were found froze to death. I don't really see how that concerns us."

Agent French still looked at him with a clearly worried expression, but upon the mention of her field of expertise she perked right up. "Normally I would have to agree with you, but there was not a single night when the temperature dropped under 50° Fahrenheit. There was simply no way how they could have died from the cold outside. There have to be external circumstances."

His head was still swimming and as much as he would have liked to reason his next words away with that fact as soon as they leave his mouth, he really couldn't. That was simply hat he was like. "Still, how does that involve us? If it's murder, shouldn't it be a case for – " He caught himself before saying 'actual agents', but only barely.

Agent French rose her perfect eyebrows and seemed to know exactly what he had wanted to say. The unspoken words hung heavy in the air between them. "An agent with actual cases?" she finally finished his sentence. "Well, they're not interested, as the police labelled the deaths accidents, so it's all ours." She twisted her mouth. "Anyway, even if it wasn't, I'd like to remind you, I'm a normal agent so I'm perfectly capable to deal with it."

Rush nodded mutely and looked away, so as not to meet her gaze. The floor of the motel-room was decked out in an ugly green carpet. He traced its flower pattern with his eyes. Unsure he wet his lips. "Yes, I know. I was simply startled, I didn't intended to call you anything but capable." Cold swept through his body. From his toes up his legs, until it finally pooled in his stomach. He felt as if his careless words had brought him to the edge of losing something important and until then he hadn't thought that he actually cared for the distraction these missions offered. The realisation unsettled him to such a degree that he forgot the words he had meant to use to placate her.

There was a long silence between them and Rush kept his gaze fixed on the floor. When she spoke again her tone was carefully neutral and he didn't turn to see her face. "When I first stumbled over this case, I noticed that the victims all worked in the gastronomy. Restaurants, cafés and hotels. Even though the police classified the deaths as accidents, they did some basic research and I got the files. Now I'd suggest we get to the part that actually makes up most of the work of the FBI: research. We look through them and search for any connections or unusual circumstances we can find. After that we'll take a look at the sites."

Rush only nodded and walked over to the small plastic table where the agent had already spread the files. To his surprise and quiet relief the tension between them evaporated as they thumbed through files and swapped pages for better perusal, but what he was even more surprised about was the fact that he actually enjoyed this: Looking through the chaos and trying to find the common thread. He could delve head first into the old habits of looking for structures without the ever numbing fear of the train of his reasoning slipping through his fingers and leaving him alone with the dark. This was far too mundane to lose oneself and suddenly he realised that he could _do_ something again and for a moment the thought choked him with its intensity.

When he looked up to ask her to hand him another file, he caught her looking at him with a wide smile. "Here", she handed him a mug with coffee. "I asked if you wanted one, but you were too absorbed to hear me." Under her bemused expression he suddenly felt very foolish for enjoying such mindless to such a degree work.

He cleared his throat uncomfortably and took a sip of his coffee. "Yes, it was more interesting than I would have thought…" To his surprise Agent French nodded enthusiastically. "One would think it quite monotone, but I actually really love it, too." She winked at him over the rim of the mug, she held in both her hands. "I actually really enjoy cataloguing documents. When I was little I even wanted to be a librarian. Nothing but cataloguing books the whole day and reading them beneath one's desk when no one would look."

Rush didn't quite know how to respond to such a revelation, but as it turned out he didn't have to anyway. After another gulp of coffee Agent French concentrated on the files again and he followed suit.

Mostly there were reconstructions the police had made of the victims' final days, but also general descriptions of the victims and lists of the people who had last spoken to them. In between were all the little things that seemed to have been on the victims' desks at the time of their deaths, doubtlessly never looked at again after the police had declared the whole thing a tragic accident. Rush looked through them all and slowly but surely, he noticed something nagging in the back of his head. There was something there, just out of his reach and finally it hit him like a ton of bricks. Hectically he compared pages, but he was right. "Morley Meat."

Agent French looked up from the page she was perusing to look at him confusedly. "What did you say?"

"Morley Meat. Every victim was affiliated with them. It seems to be a butchery here in Boston. Five of the victims were actual customers, but the rest weren't and that's probably why no one caught on to the connection before. Michael Elliot's restaurant is next door to it and the bakery seems to actually have sold bread to them." He involuntarily gasped for breath. In his excitement he had quite forgotten to breath and he would have felt embarrassed again, if it wasn't for the fact that Agent French had jumped up exited at his words.

"Then I'd say we better get going."

Of course the supernatural angle was rubbish. Rush was still more than aware of that and their first mission had done little to change his mind. Still he followed her hurriedly, as she climbed into the car. He eyed her shoes doubtfully. While Agent French was far too professional to wear anything really outrageous to work, her serious black heels still had a remarkable height and he wasn't quite sure how she could manage to drive properly with them.

When he looked up again, he caught her glancing at him in turn, before she started the engine. He hurried to look straight ahead and did his best not to look into a direction that could be so easily misunderstood again. The radio stayed silent this time and he was oddly glad for it as he forced himself to pick up his former train of thought. Even if he didn't believe in this whole mess, it was strangely intoxicating to be able to solve problems like this again. And even though it was hard to admit even in to himself it was also nice to have someone to talk to occasionally. The thought settled uncomfortably in his mind and he made a point of looking out of the window.

The part of the city they were driving through was exactly the sort Rush usually made a huge detour around. It was nice and tidy with many people walking around and the mixture of old houses and new remodelling around them was exactly the sort that his students seemed to enjoy, which explained most of his antipathy. When they finally left the main road for the smaller street with the butchery, it was already early evening.

Quietly they got out of the car, but even from the street it was easy to see that the shop had already closed. With a short gesture Agent French made him walk behind her, as she went around to the back.

The door there stood slightly open and the agent turned around to shake her head at him. 'Stay behind' – the message was clear and Rush only too happy to obey. This didn't feel like a farfetched hunt for a shadow. There could very well be a real murderer in there and he felt totally unprepared to face someone like that. Agent French on the other hand looked exactly like something right out of the TV, when she pulled out her gun and slowly inched into the building. The whole situation felt faintly surreal to Rush and he could hear the blood rush through his ears as he waited for her to come back.

Long minutes passed and Rush twitched nervously as he stood just outside the door and strained to hear anything from within. He began to feel more and more nervous, until he finally heard a loud thumb from within. He froze for a moment, unsure what to do. If it had only been Agent French, than surely she would have said something by now and if not… He swallowed hard and strained his ears in the hope of hearing something that would show him what to do. Then a muffled grown came from within and he stopped thinking. As much of a bastard as he was, Rush couldn't just let her be murdered, while he waited not even out of earshot.

His knuckles turned white around the doorknob, but he still forced himself to enter. The door opened into a sterile white kitchen. It was empty, but placed meticulously on a counter were a selection of cooking tools. With some relief he noted that all the knives seemed to be on their allocated places and before going into the next room he grabbed for a rolling pin. He grew up in Glasgow and not in the nice parts and he'd manage if he only had something vaguely threatening to hold on to.

Even in his head he was only half convinced, but he forced himself to continue. Carefully he opened the next door an inch wide and glanced through. The room behind seemed to be a storage area and right in the middle stood a man. He had his back to him and covered most of his view, but Rush could still clearly see how he choked the brunette figure before him. He hesitated only for a moment, before he shook himself out of his stupor.

The thought that he could simply turn around and call the police after all entered his mind and it made him sick to his stomach. Before he had a chance to prove how despicable he truly was, he slipped into the room. His heart thumbed in his ears as he inched towards the man. It was very cold in here, but his hands still sweated around the handle of the rolling pin.

Only another metre… Rush had to look away, as he raised his weapon and struck the man with all his might. He was scared shitless and if he missed… But he didn't miss. The wood hit its target with such a force, that Rush had to stumble back. Heart hammering, he chanced a glance. The man lay unconscious on the floor, a wide gash on the back of his head and in the cold light it looked for a second as if his skin had turned blue. Rush blinked and the picture was gone and he hurried to kneel next to Agent French. The usually so lively agent had fallen to the floor and was trembling violently. Rush touched her arm, unsure of what to do. She felt cool to the touch.

"Agent French? Are you all right?" An absolutely stupid question, but he had simply no idea what else to do. She looked up to him and he was at once even more concerned when he saw that her lips had turned blue. "I'm ok, don't worry, just a little cold. Could you give me my phone? It fell over there during the fight."

Rush hurried to give it to her. "We should probably call an ambulance." She shook her head. "I don't think you truly got him that hard and even if, the police will have that well in hand." He looked at her disbelievingly. She was still deadly pale and even the phone in her hand shook with the tremors that had her body in their grasp. "I meant for you." For a moment she just stared at him, then she shook her head dismissively. "Don't be ridiculous, I'm right as rain."

Her tone allowed no further discussions, so while she dialled the police he looked around the room, trying to make sense of what had happened. A few bags had fallen over and spilt their innards over the floor, a whirl of salt, pepper and herbs. There were footprints in between and on the other side of the room, seemingly in the direction the assailant had come from, an open door. "The cold room…" Slowly things started to make sense…

When he turned around again, Agent French had just ended her call and sat down on a stool opposite the unconscious man, gun out. "I called the police. Someone should be over in five minutes."

Rush nodded thoughtfully, eyes fixed on her ashen face. "Are you sure, you're alright? Maybe I should keep an eye on-"

"I'm truly alright." She gifted him with a weak smile. "Enough for this at least. Have you found anything during your little perusal?"

He nodded. "Yes, there's a cold room, where he stores the meat. I think he murdered them over there. Maybe he gave them something so they couldn't struggle or he simply locked the door behind them, after he threw them in." He shrugged. "Without an autopsy there is no real way of knowing, especially as your case can't really be counted, as you surprised him."

Agent French looked at him funnily. "And what if I tell you that I never was in the cold room? How would you explain my state?"

Rush looked from her to the chaos her struggle with the butcher had caused, than back to her. "The door stood open, so to some degree it could have been the cold sweeping in from there, but maybe you didn't notice how close you were, during the fight? I'm sure you had more important things on your mind than whether or not you were in the cold room in between."

Agent French looked at him for a long moment, then she only shook her head with a tired smile. "You see but still don't believe? I think this will truly be a hard piece of work."

He had an inkling what she was talking about, but on the off—chance that she would make sense for once, he was about to ask her, when the police finally arrived and from then on the whole building was a flurry of activity. An officer asked him about what had happened, while Agent French was talking animatedly with a detective, looking quite healthy again. It was only when they finally left that she started shaking again. Her bravado had seemingly been used up, while she had played the capable FBI agent. Of course she protested an ambulance, so he hurried to get her to the car.

It was only after he had herded her into the narrow cot of her motel room, suit, socks and all, and under the thick comforter that Rush stopped abruptly. He had no idea when he had last taken the lead with someone else, when he had cared enough to do anything other than avoiding them. He shook his head violently, before he sat down on the hard plastic chair beside the bed.

If anything Agent French had gained a little more colour while she had sipped on the coffee he had fetched her from the machine in the hall. When she met his gaze she smiled a little abashedly. It was her who broke the silence and saved him from voicing the question that somehow always got stuck in his throat before he could manage to voice it. Concern had always sat uneasily with him and in this still half-formed situation, the dynamics between them still hanging in the open air, he had less of an idea than ever before.

"I'm sorry for being so stubborn before… You were right, I pushed myself too far, but I… I was never good at accepting help from others." She chewed her bottom lip between her teeth and breathed in shakenly. "Not a very good quality for someone in my field, I know." She smiled again, but her smile was a stretched thing on the edge of something else, and Rush finally found his voice again, grasping at the chance of turning the conversation around. He didn't think he could bear seeing her smile break, what was beneath.

"Why did you anyway?" Agent French looked at him startled, seemingly surprised out of her train of thoughts and he hurried to continue. "Earlier you said you wanted to be a librarian when you were a girl, so why this?"

She looked calm again, but her cheerful demeanour was set aside for the moment, as she met his gaze. He wasn't sure if this sad look was truly better than the half-broken smile.

"Well, ehm, when I was a teen my mother was the victim of a robbery. I was at school and my dad was working at our shop, but she wasn't feeling well, so she stayed home. She gave them all the valuables, but there was this book… She'd had it since she was a little girl and we always used to read it together and they probably wouldn't even have bothered with it, if it hadn't had this antique cover. All leather with a gold imprint – fake of course but they didn't know that and when she didn't want to give it away they just hit her so hard over the head that she broke down. A neighbour heard and called an ambulance, but there was massive bleeding in her brain and she died…" She breathed in deeply, before shrugging half-heartedly. "I just didn't understand how they could've done that over some old novelty book. I wanted to know how those people thought, so I became a profiler." She smiled a little and Rush felt as if he had just been hit in the stomach. Still somehow the silence between them was not as strained as before, when she had seemed to barely hold on to her composure over her suitability and maybe that was part of the point.

He surprised himself, when he suddenly found himself talking again. "My wife died too. Cancer last year." Rush shut his mouth instantly again. It didn't change the words hanging in the air between them and suddenly he didn't know anymore how he had found his answer fitting, when she touched his arm. Her small hand was still all too cold even through his sleeve.

"I know."

He opened his mouth to say something, before he simply nodded. Of course she knew. Jackson had to have given her his file. Or she could have simply googled him for all he knew. He looked from her little cold hand to her sad, but open face and she smiled at him. A tired, small thing, but an honest one this time and suddenly she looked so much more like herself again.

"I won't say it will get better", she finally said quietly. "Too many people told me everything would be well again after she died, even though I really didn't want to hear it back then. I didn't want to lose that last connection to her, I thought, well, if it didn't hurt anymore she'd finally be gone. And it truly won't to be honest. Get better I mean. It will always hurt to think of her, but with time there are other things, other people that will make you smile and it will at least be ok."

"I.." Rush didn't know what to say to that, he barely knew what to feel while his chest felt as if it was being crushed. Agent French only smiled wider, before she snuggled further under her covers.

"I think I will be okay now. The coffee really did me some good. If I warm up a little more, I will be alright for our trip back tomorrow. You can get a little bit of sleep of your own, I can only imagine that you need it, too, after a day like that."

He only nodded, thankful for the chance of a graceful escape while his head was whirling.

"Good night, Agent French." He had already stepped half through the door, when she answered him. "Good night, Dr. Rush, but for people who rescued my life it's Belle."

His knuckles turned white around the doorknob.

"Nick", he rasped, still facing the door, before he finally slipped out of the room.


	4. Three, four, five, six

– **3,4,5,6…–**

Objectively nothing significant had changed. His involvement in catching a serial killer had only cemented his opinion that any strange occurrence could be explained away by base human cruelty and had nothing to do with anything supernatural. Still he quickened his steps, when he saw Agent French in front of the airport, suitcase still in hand.

Agent French –Belle!- smiled when she saw him and this time he actually didn't get startled at the gesture. Instead he gave her a curt nod. "Belle." The name tumbled off his tongue with barely any hesitation, despite its newness. _Belle_. He clenched his hands nervously, his palms wet.

"Nick", she replied, as if they had been friends for years and gestured to a waiting rental. "How was your flight?"

"All right", he answered shortly, distracted by the warmth that had spread through him at her use of his given name, only to hasten to continue when he finally noticed his tone and caught up to the social niceties. "And yours?" He winced at his own words. Too little, too late to cover his lack of any sort of basic social grace.

She simply had to have noticed, but she only continued cheerfully as always. "Wonderful. I had a window seat and the chance to go over our files again." She winked at him, before she turned around to heave her suitcase into the trunk of the car and before he in turn could remember to do the expected thing and protest, she'd put in his bag, too.

Slightly flustered he followed her lead as she climbed into the car. He looked from her to the window, thinking frantically of something to say, so she would speak to him again, say his name.

He winced. Back at home he had considered telling her about the chaos the renovation of the entry hall had caused at the university and this was no less pathetic. The agent, Belle, was just the sort of person that was always serene, but her cheerfulness didn't mean that she wanted to hear anecdote from his personal life. While Belle had become the one person he imagined talking about his everyday life with, he was simply someone she worked with and to whom she was kind because of her sunny demeanour. For a moment his utter loneliness choked him and he had to force himself to stay quiet and turn away. Slowly he went through the first ten prime numbers in his head, forcing himself to keep his breathing calm. He had no one.

A concerned voice, distracted him from the 15th one. "Nick, are you ok?" Rush turned around again, face carefully blank. His treacherous heart was hammering in his chest. Belle looked honestly concerned. Maybe, she even was. It was possible after all. She seemed to be a very caring person, so her worry might even be real. Even if he didn't truly matter to her in the grand scheme of things, it wouldn't be quite so pathetic to consider her a friend, if she cared at least a bit.

 **-Corn circles-**

 **-Slaughtered cows-**

 **-Strange lights in the night sky-**

Absentmindedly Rush sipped at his coffee as he read through the latest file Belle had given him. Blurred photographs of lights against the night sky were strewn over an old newspaper and next to a case report he had taken notes in red ink on, as had become his habit. He frowned and rolled his pen between the mug-free fingers of his right hand.

The photographs were clearly fake, but if he wanted to have even a slight chance of convincing Belle of his explanation, he'd need well-founded arguments, because no matter how unbelievable her conclusions were, her arguments were always flawlessly logical – if one accepted certain parameters. Still deep in thought he grabbed the report of an eye-witness. Movements like the man described were simply impossible with an object of the UFOS claimed size. Yes, that had to be an angle even she couldn't simply dismiss…

Rush reached for a new page of his notebook and started to write down experimental equations, erased a parameter here, added a more exact number there. When he finally looked over his final result half an hour later he put his equation to the rest of the file, more than pleased with himself. Thoughtfully he went through the steps again in his mind and without thinking he took a page from the other stack on his desk.

The equation had been simple enough, a little demonstration on how the laws of physics couldn't be bended in certain ways, no matter how far developed an hypothetical alien-civilization was, but in the back of his mind, his thoughts had stayed with the powers that worked in the voids between the stars and he forced himself to think of nothing else, as he took his pen and continued a train of thought he had abandoned months ago.

Technically Rush had never stopped working at his desk- he had simply stopped being productive. On the left top corner of his desk an orderly stack with notes on his work had been sitting for the last few months. Sometimes he had spread them out before himself and tried to find the point, where the equations had started to slip from his fingers, but the longer he failed, the harder it was to gather the energy to go through them once again, only to have the numbers blur before his eyes again.

Still, while he might have never technically stopped working, he still couldn't believe it, when he finally looked down at the new hypothesis he had just finished. His eyes grew hot and he bit down hard on his lip in a desperate try to stop being so pathetic over a simple piece of math. He didn't quite manage. Tears ran down his cheeks even as he cursed himself.

His work, ideas that tried to breach the frontiers of their knowledge, that had been his whole life for the better part of his years, even then, when it probably shouldn't have been… Rush rubbed away the wet stain from his face, but he was smiling tiredly now.

After Gloria's death he had sunk in a desperate numbness. Nothing had made sense anymore, nothing seemed worth bothering – even his work. When he had finally put himself together again to function well enough to pass for normal, the apathy had stayed and it had been almost as if his heart had turned to ashes twice over.

Rush swallowed hard and pressed his hands over his mouth, to muffle the hysterical sobs, that bubbled up his throat. Maybe he wouldn't find the energy to work like this, like _before_ , again for a long while and surely not with such ease, but at least he knew that he still could, that not everything was lost to him.

Slowly his breathing calmed again and Rush stroked lovingly over his new notes. He had already dialled half of Belle's number, when he stopped short. He couldn't just call Belle for something like that. It had nothing to do with their work and everything to do with the mess his personal life had turned out to be and even though they had crossed that line often enough, he couldn't bring himself to do it now. The jumble of emotions flittering through him was still too raw to share, especially when there was a chance that she wouldn't understand. Slowly he put the phone back into its station and leaned back in his chair. The sun was shining brightly through the window and warmed his face. He closed his eyes and breathed in deeply. Even if he didn't tell her, she'd notice that something had changed and the thought spread warmth through his body.

 **-Lost time-**

 **-Memory losses-**

 **-Controlled minds-**

Belle stood motionless in the entryway, back ramrod straight and face hard. Rush clenched his fists. The girl – Mary – had been led away by social services almost half an hour ago, but Belle still stood there, and starred out to the street. The picture was completely wrong and the intensity of the thought shook him to the bone. Right then with her face a frozen mask, she just didn't look like Belle, not like she should be. Belle was bright, happy, but this woman looked so tired as if she could barely hold herself upright. He took another step in her direction, unsure of how to proceed, but certain, that he had to do something.

Rush drew up next to her and followed her gaze outside. The lawn was orderly with small flower beds and toys strewn occasionally over the grass. He wasn't sure what she was seeing, but glancing at her tired face, he highly doubted that it was the same. He struggled for words. The thought that Belle, who always was the one in control, could be left floundering like this was a new and terrifying one. At least she was not starring at the kitchen floor. He didn't think he would have managed to find his voice again, if she had starred at the blood of the girl's mother.

"You know," he started quietly. "after Gloria's death, everything just stopped making sense. Even my work." He laughed hoarsely. She still didn't look at him, but slowly he started to gain confidence as another one of their conversation echoed in his mind. "I used to live for my work, but suddenly it all just seemed so pointless. I used to believe that there was more out there, a greater truth I could uncover, but with her death I couldn't anymore." He smiled mirthlessly, eyes still fixed on the garden. Somehow it truly was easier to open his heart to the open air. "Ironically, if I had known about Icarus back then, it might have been the thing that would have given me something to live for. But I didn't and I just floundered…"

He paused and turned towards her again. Belle had turned towards him now, her eyes wide and shining. She gripped his hand tightly and after the first second of shock, he squeezed back. "You gave me that sense back, and I really have to thank you for that. Sometimes the memories might become too much, but you are the last person, who should let them conquer you."

For a long moment she stayed silent and all he could hear was the whistling of the wind outside and for a second he felt his face heat in memory of his pathetic little speech, but then Belle turned around and suddenly he had a soft bundle of brown curls and warmth in his arms. "Thank you", she whispered quietly. Her warm breath stroked over the skin of his neck and he shuddered involuntarily. "I needed to hear that." Rush closed his arms only tighter around her. For once he felt as if he wasn't the one floundering, but the rock she could hold on to.


	5. Last

– **Last–**

They were sitting in her cramped office, which was unusual all by itself. Normally they met on airports or directly in the city they would work in, and on occasion she'd even collect him at the university. During the last six months he'd been exactly twice in her office in Washington, though both times for practical purposes rather than because of anything important.

The posters he remembered were still on the walls – pictures of the galaxy, star maps and landscapes of faraway countries. The room actually was far too small for all the pictures, especially with the overflowing shelves against every wall, but Belle didn't seem to mind. Since his last visit some new postcards had even found their way to the site of a cupboard, where they were now prominently fixed with some tape. Rush let his gaze wander over the curiosities of the room, before he finally let his gaze rest on Belle. She was sitting in the chair opposite of him, her hands folded tightly in her lap. Normally she would have entertained him with bits and pieces of her week, but now she was unusually quiet.

He on the other hand was strangely serene, as he touched her arm. "Belle?"

Even if he hadn't known her moods so well by now, he wouldn't have bought her shaky smile. "Yes, Nick? Is there still something you want to talk about before Dr. Jackson comes?"

He didn't, but he didn't think that she truly believed he did, either. She looked pale under the cold light of the LED-lamp and he breathed in deeply, before he spoke. There couldn't be a reason to keep her so flustered. "No, it's no real decision anymore."

Belle bit her lip and nodded unhappily. "I thought so. At least you'll have your peace now, that's something." Abruptly, she looked up again and smiled. It was no happy smile, but despite her rigid posture he could see that she was doing her best to make it seem cheerful. He blinked at her confusedly, for a moment lost for words.

"You don't think-" His hand closed over her arm without any conscious thought. He let go of her abruptly and started to speak again, only to close his mouth before he had managed to voice a single word. Words were burning on his tongue, desperate to be spoken, but he just couldn't bring himself to say them. "I have been decided for months." he ended hoarsely. His tongue felt as if it were weighted down with lead, but her pale, sad face made him carry on despite himself. "I'll agree."

In a matter of moments a series of emotions flittered over her face. First surprise, then joy, and finally an expression of alarm that turned his blood to ice. "But you don't believe in any of it! We argue about the impossibility of it all on every case, usually even on every other day."

Rush wet his lip, forcing himself to continue. He simply couldn't stop, before he understood the reason for der disquiet. "Yes, I still argue against it and to be honest I'm not entirely sure if any of it can possibly make sense, but I'll give it a try." He smiled weakly. The gesture still felt strange to him, but nowhere near as foreign as six months ago. He continued with new determination. "At least I haven't managed to think of an argument you couldn't counter." He hesitated, before he touched her hand again. It was warm beneath his fingers. "But even if I truly still thought it impossible, I would give the project a chance."

"But why?" Her voice was barely above a whisper, as she looked at him with wide blue eyes. He snorted. It wasn't exactly appropriate, but he just couldn't help himself and he had never been known for his tact anyway. How couldn't she know after all she had done for him? "Because of you of course. You are my best friend and if all it takes for your dream to come true is for me to suffer a group of lunatics for a while, while I get an excellent pay, I will manage."

He had hoped for a smile, but instead the alarmed look on her face only intensified. She stayed silent for a long moment, but he forced himself to hold her gaze the whole time. This wasn't a moment he could give up, it was far too important for that, _she_ was far too important for that.

"I thank you, but –" Belle swallowed hard. "Thank you, but that wasn't the deal. I had to change your mind, I didn't manage and now you don't have to chain yourself to a project, you would have to suffer through just to make me happy."

Rush shook his head disbelievingly. Of course she wouldn't let him do something she thought he didn't want. Of course she'd rather sacrifice her own dream, that brave, stupid, wonderful woman.

He looked at her, really looked at her from her brown curls to her trademark death-trap shoes and had to swallow. He couldn't imagine a world in which he didn't see her regularly anymore. It was not like it had been with Gloria, a great flawless love, in which he had never quite understood how he managed to stumble into it, but Belle was the one person he couldn't live without, the arm that always supported him, the person who made him strive to live again and it was no less miraculous. It still felt almost like a betrayal of Gloria, but only almost anymore and in truth he knew that she would have wanted him to be happy.

He can't tell her any of that of course, at least not yet. Rush was self-aware enough to know that she'd run for the hills if he did, but there was something at least that he could offer her. "You were right, you know, on our second mission. It still hurts, but there's someone who makes me smile again." He had to force himself to keep looking at her, but he managed and even smiled weakly. "No, I don't really believe in it, but I can believe that it is possible again, and I have you to thank for that." Rush halted, struggling for words. He had never been someone to voice his feelings, but in this instance he had to, if he wanted to chase that forlorn look from her face. He owed her that much. "I can't say that I ever believed in aliens, but a little while back I wouldn't have ruled out the possibility. Then – my life went up in flames and suddenly I couldn't imagine that something so fantastical could exist in such a bleak world. Now I can see the possibilities again." He shrugged awkwardly. "Maybe the stars can mean life and knowledge, what do I know?"

Rush wet his lips, and slowly turned his gaze away from her. He'd said his part, but the fact that he had offered his heart to her on a gilded platter, didn't have to mean that she'd want it. One, two, three seconds passed in which he barely dared to breathe, then her hand grabbed for his and squeezed it tightly and when he dared to look up again, she met his gaze with a smile and pulled him to his feet and into her warm arms.

"I didn't think", she whispers against his neck. "But I am glad. I was so afraid I'd never see you again. I don't know what would have done without you." She fit perfectly against him, even in her heals her head only rested comfortably on his shoulder. He was sure there was something he should say to that, but he felt as if all his words had just been spend, and before he could start to worry her mouth found his, warm and wet and perfect. He closed his eyes and tried to loose himself in the taste, in the feel of her in his arms.

When they finally had to break apart, gasping for air like two stumbling teenagers, he couldn't help, but mirror her grin as he held her close. He didn't know why he had worried. This felt effortless, just like anything did with her by his side.

That was how they still stood - not a step apart in her tiny office and smiling at each other- when a loud knock on the door announced their visitor. Rush groaned and buried his face in her curls as Jackson's voice came from behind the door. "Hello? Agent French, Dr. Rush, I'm here for our meeting."

Belle giggled, as Rush mumbled profanities under her breath, unwilling to let her go. The man truly was a nuisance.


End file.
